The Dark Dovah
by Predominantly Normal
Summary: Thirteen year old Julius Fayde never liked adventure. He gets enough of it from his dad, an eccentric LARP member. But his life has to adjust when his dad shouts a petrified dragon, as well as nine very powerful gods, free. Now, Julius and eight other initiates must save the earth as we know it. As well as the not-so-mythical world of Skyrim.
1. Authors Note

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**

_This is the retelling of a recording tape that somehow made it to my hands. Sounds such as scuffling or odd noises were taken out, as well as remarks or loud indescribable noises. Because the audio was poor, some quotes were guessed on. Whether you choose to believe this story or not is your decision, but I warn you, if the things the narrator says is true, then there is little hope for our earth as we know it._

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_**I DO NOT OWN SKYRIM AND THIS IS JUST A FAN-MADE BOOK WRITTEN ON THE GAME.**_


	2. My Dad Shouts At A Dragon

**I DON'T OWN SKYRIM**

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I only have so long, so please listen carefully. If you are hearing this story, you may be one of us. The others and I may be your only hope. Go to the building, talk to the man, and tell him the phrase, "Fus, Roh, and Dah." By the end of this story, you will understand what that stands for. I won't tell you what building, or what guy. When the time comes, you will know.

The most important thing is, that when you find it, don't keep it for too long. It'll be hard to give away after gaining a taste of it's power, but trust me. It will take over your state of mind and... Well, it's just not pretty. Hide it for the next person, just like I did for you. Then, just sit back, and try not to die on the path your life is going to go on.

I don't want to stall, so let me get to the actual story. I suppose the best place to start is in the ancient circle tomb of Dovah, where I got saved from a skeleton warrior by a cat-man.

My name is Julius Fayde. I'm thirteen, and my home is on the great battle fields of the land of Azarath, America's biggest LARP Center. LARP stands for Live Action Role Play, and, all in all, it's just a whole bunch of middle aged guys 'Killing' other middle aged guys with foam swords.

You must think I'm insane. Or I have no life. Both of which, I have no objection to. You see, ever since I could walk, my dad and I have traveled all over America searching for the best battlegrounds. Mostly, we like to stay at Ohio, considering that's where Azarath is. My dad also says that it had the perfect mixture of crazy weather, plains, bodies of water, and guys with no life.

My dad has always been seriously eccentric about this kind of stuff. He's written at least seven books. Go into a library or whatever and search up the name Dr. Lucas Fayde. You wanna know the ancient knighting rights of the civilization of Whertheheckistan? My dad knows it.

My dad also homeschooled me. Which, wasn't a good idea considering dad's aptitude for what is useful to learn and what isn't. So the main subjects I could get my brain around were as follows: Sword Fighting, History, and Pigeon Training. I know that sounds great and all, but it gets kind of boring when every class is interrupted by General Flagon calling about an invasion.

My dad has this one thing he never, ever lets me near. A little ballpoint pen. That's right, a pen. I didn't know why, but he wouldn't let me near it. I learned it the day my dad shouted a dragon alive.

It happened on a Sunday. The Sunday right before Thanksgiving, in fact. Dad and I were visiting New York to view the LARP fields. Dad was clutching his pen so hard, his knuckles turned a pale shade of white. That pen had always been good luck. But sadly, when we had the pen, we actually found more trouble.

"See here, boy. This is where seven Kajiit Tribes defeated all of the imperials." He grinned, pointing to the mess of crabgrass.

"Uh-huh." I replied, not really listening.

We travelled around, my father pointing out the 'points of interest' or whatever. I'll be honest, after so long you begin to get bored of that kind of talking. I mean, would you like to hear how the Orcs of Marthal fought off the Thalmor embassy? No. You wouldn't.

Out of nowhere my father stopped abruptly and looked my way. "Do you have your amulet?"

"Of course, dad." I replied.

Scowling slightly, I pulled out my little neck chain. The symbol on it was a cross, carved out of silver. Little lines etched around it, but besides that, anyone would've thought I was one of those religion nuts. Either way, It was still only one of the gifts dad had ever bought me, and he was always serious about keeping it on.

So I did. The pretty little necklace. Do you know how embarrassing it is to go around in public wearing nothing but a weird green vest, a literal helm, tights, and a necklace? People always give the strangest looks.

"Good." He said.

We kept walking and we finally approached some old ruins. The look of them was odd enough; a circle of land that had been carved out and a spiral staircase leading down. The dark stone looked like it would crumble any minute and some suspicious looking bones were littered about. Red spattered liquid drenched the inner walls and ground, making my stomach churn. At the bottom of the staircase was a little circle of walking space a door and a...

Dead human body laying around.

I instinctively clung on to my dad, to which he shoved me away and literally searched the dead carcass. I only barely noticed a chest sitting next to the dead man, so I decided to check that.

One hundred year old chests can give you some very bad splinters. Wincing, I pulled off the top of the box and looked inside. I pulled out some weird boots and a knife. [_There's no difference between a knife and a dagger, Leonard!]_ anyways with the knife-erm-dagger balanced awkwardly in my hand I gave it a few swings just for the heck of it.

After dad finished checking the dead body, he faced me and smiled. [_No, not like a psycho-smile._]

"I see you've checked the chest." He said flatly, "good. Let's keep going." Dad nudged me inside the creepy tomb.

The first thing about tombs? They're filled to the brim with dead stuff. My eyes quickly adjusted to the dim lighting, revealing a row of caskets, urns, and other burial devices. I shivered at the sight. Dad didn't seem to mind, but his thumb tapped the tip of the pen impatiently. After we'd passed maybe twenty or so more hallways, dad stopped at a center piece.

The piece looked like a dragon, but so realistic it appeared almost petrified. For some odd reason, I was nervous to approach it. My dad bravely stepped up to it.

"Julius, I want you to go back outside. I need absolute silence while studying this." Dad says.

I oblige and walk out, wondering what my dad needed to 'study' about a fake dragon statue. Curiosity overwhelmed me and I snuck behind the corridor to see what my dad was doing. My dad began doing this odd chant, then, using only his voice, destroyed the statue.

That's right. My whole mind went in slow motion as I watched my father yell the statue to bits. The strange words left his mouth, "Fus Ro Dah!" And out of nowhere, a blue aura-like blast exploded out of his mouth like a holographic meteor. It made contact with the petrified dragon and literally exploded. Dust, earth, and marble flew at me with unbelievable speed. I only just had enough time to duck back behind the wall.

When I looked back, I was just about ready to faint. An actual dragon sat there, baring huge teeth and swaying it's tail. I sat stiller than a statue, hyperventilating and in a cold sweat. The dragon roared and stared straight at my father. He stared at my dad with such malice, my dad started to burn up. I was to scared to even move, my eyes were wide as I watched my dad get ripped apart, flesh and skin ripping off his body with an agonized scream.

When I looked back, in my dad's place was a skeleton. It was heavily armed and looking straight at me. The dragon gave a loud roar and nine colored auras flew out of it's mouth, like they had been trapped. Most of them flew away, finding exits in the cracks of the walls. A midnight blue aura hit me in the chest, sending me back. I choked and faintly tried to pull myself up. The dragon spread blood red wings and flew up, crashing through the ceiling.

My fathers exoskeleton was still there, pure blue eyes staring into my soul. He lifted his arm and a purple flame exploded in it. When the flame dissipated, a glowing purple battle axe sat in my father's bony hands.

"Dad! It's me!" I yelped, hoping I sounded braver than I felt.

Dad didn't listen because without ears, I suppose that's not an easy task. He swung his battle axe my way and I dodged just before my head was taken off. Instinctively, I pulled out the dagger and brandished it in my father's face. Dad swung at me and with lightning reflexes, I rolled out of the way dug my dagger into his um-back. He roared in pain and whipped around to face me. He swung his axe and the next thing I knew, I was on the ground, groaning in pain. Thankfully, dad must've still been in there somewhere as he hit me with the flat of the weapon. Not so thankfully, I couldn't even pick myself up.

Dad balanced his weapon over my face, just about ready to cut me in half, which, by the way, really sucks. Just as I became a skeleton just like dad, I heard a loud battle cry, "Mrrow!" Okay so it sounded more like a cat being tortured.

A man in a hooded outfit hoped forward in front of me, so I couldn't see his face.

"Lucass. You have dissresspected thee order of nine. By relassing the Dovah, you have endangered uss all. Prepare to die." He hissed, his voice low and with a snake-like dialect.

Even though my dad was a dead carcass and still trying to kill me, I couldn't let him die. Even if he already was dead. I somehow yanked myself up and grabbed at the strange man's back. Then I noticed something. It was furry. Even through the fabric, I felt at least inch thick fur on his back.

The man pulled back his arm, bearing a short sword, and smashed it into the remains of my father. My dad instantly turned to dust and disintegrated into the air.

"Who are you?" I asked the weird man.

"My name iss Ja'Dar, Cub." He said, still facing forward.

"Cub? What happened to my dad? What was that-thing? Why was there a dragon? Wh-" I was cut off.

"Shut up." He said simply. "Follow me, cub." Ja'Dar turned so I couldn't see his face and started walking out of the ruins.

Not willing to get left behind, I followed him although I still had a bad feeling. Ja'Dar lead me out of the tomb and into the outside world. Somehow, it was already dark out, and the cold air stung my face. We stepped out of the circular dip and stopped.

"We may have to set up camp." Ja'Dar said.

"Why is it so dark?" I asked, scanning the horizon for any sign of the sun.

"The Dovah probably sped time." Ja'Dar said, as if I should know this.

"What is a Dovah? The dragon?"

"In human tongue, yes. A Dovah is a dragon. That Dovah in particular was locked up for a reason." Ja'Dar explained.

"Human tongue?" I looked at him, but his face was still hidden.

"Yes. Human tongue. It's my second language. My first is Dovah." Ja'Dar explained.

"Wait, you can talk to drag-er-Dovah?" I asked.

He nodded and began to set up camp, still keeping his back turned. As he started pitching a tent, I noticed something. He had a tail. How I didn't notice it before was beyond me.

"Y-You have a-"

"Tail? I know. Most Kajiit do." Ja'Dar answered. "It appears the spell is wearing off then."

"Kajiit?" My dad had always talked about Kajiit. They were tricky, cunning, ruthless killing machines.

"Don't believe a word he says. We're actually pretty nice, as long as you don't rub our fur the wrong way." Ja'Dar chuckles, reading my thoughts.

After pitching the tent, Ja'Dar started on a fire.

"Why don't you show your face?" I asked, slightly irritated.

"Scars from battle wound more than flesh, Cub." Ja'Dar stated.

"So your ego got cut up?" I asked.

"In a way, I suppose so." Ja'Dar laughs a bit. His laugh is hoarse and weak, as if he hadn't laughed for a while.

Ja'Dar turned around and I found myself excitable and anxious to see his face. As soon as I'm in good view, some of my excitement wears off. Ja'Dar has a white mask on his face. The top has a crack in it and so does the left eyehole. The mask is completely white save for three stripes of red painted diagonally across the eyes and where the nose should've been. What I can see of Ja'Dar's face are piercing blue eyes. They're almost white, but a simple blue tinge is still present.

"You should probably rest, my Cub." He says, gesturing towards an animal pelt.

Sadly enough, I've slept on these before. On multiple occasions. They're scratchy and not warm at all, but they'll work. At this point and time I'm to tired to object, so I just trudge over to the pelt and flop down on it with a quiet, "Thanks."

I fall asleep with the sound of fire crackling and the wind whipping around my makeshift tent.

What have I got myself into?


End file.
